Cherry blossoms and blue sky from a neighborhood walk in Spring 2021. Vaccines offered hope even if the future was blurry. A year later, we have some clarity…and are still learning. In other words, life. photo by anne richardson.
Spring’s Gift of Chaotic Energy
Spring has begun in earnest in the Pacific Northwest. Daffodils are in yellow and orange abundance. Plum and cherry trees blushing to life. And Daphne’s aroma intoxicating for blocks on end. Blue sky, dry days are joy, sun warming Earth and skin. Rain is gentle, coming and going as tide. We need each drop to recover from a lingering drought. That the rain falling off-and-on this week without a storm’s full-on bluster is gift. No flooding.
Spring’s energy has been rising for weeks and after two years of all the upheaval Covid has wrought, there is a giddiness in the air of hope that the worse is behind us, even as more chapters are being written. At least that is what the birds are singing. Or…it is mating season.?
How’s Your Grief?
Before I set off on my musings though, let’s rest for a moment. Yes, we’ve passed the two year mark of “that big world shift.” The one that set so many things into motion…and things aren’t settled yet, as much as we want them to be. So I invite you to check-in with yourself. How are you doing? Being? Check in with your body. Your emotions. When was the last time you noticed Beauty? When was the last time you took a breath? A deep breath. Tallied your losses (some may be obvious and some subtle.) How or when have you been able to grieve? Is the list long? Perhaps overwhelming? It is normal to become numb, tired, avoidant when we are overwhelmed. So, please, no judgments about how you are coping. Or perhaps falling back on habits you would rather leave behind. You are simply noticing. If it feels okay, offer yourself permission to just sit for awhile. To acknowledge the last two years have been astonishingly difficult. And have had splashes beauty. You are here. A witness to the story. The holder of your own story—still unfolding. It is a lot, right?
Take time to be. Northern Oregon Coast, March 2022. photo by anne richardson
My Mentor Grief has Taught Me to Listen
I am coming out of winter’s restoration feeling internally settled despite all that is unfurling in the world. Feeling content to wait for what is next…and there is a sense there will be a “next.” I have spent the dark of winter writing poetry, reading, resting, listening. This being settled is new for me. When I was younger I would have wanted to “know.” To have a five year plan…or something to point toward. Perhaps it is maturing. Perhaps it has been learning to live with uncertainty. Perhaps the more I listen to trees, moss, birds, water, stones, fungi…generally any being of this Earth, the more I am in awe of all I have yet to discover, so I best get out of my own way. My mentor Grief, I believe, has had a hand in this.
This isn’t to say I don’t stumble over myself some days. And I’m not walking around with my head in the clouds all lah-de-dah. Covid. War(s). Political upheaval. Economic, racial, and other disparities. Climate disruptions. This world is churning and to be oblivious to that would be naive. Grief is palpable everywhere. An abundance of losses. I have my dark days and I would guess you do to.
One of The Sisters marked for felling. Seeing this band around her sent a wave a sadness through me. Grief.
Sister Trees before ice storms and decay. Summer 2020. Beauties. photo by anne richardson
Grief Surprises
And sometimes Grief surprises me. An old Grief becoming fresh. Just this week concerning my beloved Sister Trees: the circle of nine Red Leaf Maples (plus one just outside but entwined…a “cousin.”) They have companioned me through deep Grief, and I have companioned them after the loss of three Sisters to last year’s ice storm. They will be losing one more sibling. Red tape with black polka dots has been tied around her trunk. The arborist’s indication of removal. This Sister who is sprouting spring on her limbs, hosting fern and moss, also has decay. In an urban setting, she could fall in a storm. Injure someone. This, I sense, is not her soul’s desire. This sacred circle will once again shift. I wrap my arms as far as I can around her. Hold her tight. Thank her.
I don’t know when they will come with saws. I don’t know how she will feel when the blade enters her bark. Will it be painful? Will the moss weep? Are her Sisters already saying goodbye, like we do to our loved ones on hospice? I find comfort in knowing her roots will remain. Her legacy as part of the circle will be present. And these wise beings have taught me that along with Grief comes Joy, for the three Sisters that fell in the ice storm, though their branches no longer hold nesting birds, they are sprouting with new possibility out of their ragged stumps. Perhaps that is how this circle first formed.
I am saddened by the impending loss of this Sister. If they were in a forest setting, she would have fallen in Earth time, rotted naturally, returned to soil. But then I wouldn’t have been invited into the circle. Held. Loved. I get to grieve her. It is a gift. An honor.
Grieving in Community
I belong to a beautiful community, Coffee and Grief Community on Facebook, that began with the pandemic because its founders, Anne Gudger and her daughter, Maria Gibson, believe in public Grief. It now has over 700 members (it is a private group, so let me know if you need an invite.) They hold a monthly Coffee Talk on Zoom that anyone can attend (first Thursday of the month at 7pm PT) with five readers sharing stories of loss. A rich space where any loss is welcome. In the sharing, threads of stories are woven into the common space. Yes, each loss is individual AND our need to connect and share is communal.
“The Well of Grief
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief,
turning down to its black water
to the place that we cannot breathe,
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering, the small round coins,
thrown by those who wished for something else.
”
I recently discovered The Death Dialogues Project, which is about: “Sharing stories, views & experiences surrounding death, dying, grief and the aftermath-- with an aim towards easing conversations of "death" out of the closet.” There is also a podcast! So far I like what I’ve perused. Again, it is about finding space to share stories and being heard without someone trying to fix. So often others are uncomfortable with Grief…their own and ours. Finding safe spaces to share and listen to others stories can allow individual and communal Grief to transform.
Journeying with Grief is HARD
I cited other Grief (and Trauma) resources in a previous blog posts (Lessons from the Pandemic: Between Times, Kindness, & Grief, Lessons from the Pandemic: Invitations of Winter & Grief) and new ones are arising all the time. I appreciate this awakening and hope it continues. I’ve shared how Grief is my mentor over the last three years weaving wisdom like gold threads into my stories. Into all of our stories, though they may feel more like barbed wire at times. Working with Grief is HARD. No wonder we are exhausted.
Need for Grief Literary
There are not enough grief councilors, therapists and experts for everyone if we continue to look at Grief as an ailment to be “cured.” But, if we can begin to once again see grieving as a part of living life fully and learn how to be with each other “in grief,” then perhaps we will come out of the pandemic with more tender hearts and, as my friend Anne Gudger says, as beauty seekers.
And I still advocate for receiving professional support while journeying with your Grief if you feel that is what you need (it is a large part of the work I do as a spiritual director/companion.) Grief can be messy and complex. We often need to tell our story over and over and over to find meaning. Our friends and family may not be in a place to generously hold that. AND I am a strong advocate for greater Grief Literacy in our society. I hope I am contributing to that.
Allowing Unfolding
As with most of my posts these days, they take unexpected turns (much like my poems) and evolve over several days. They are coming less frequently (was my last one really over two months ago!) Part of that is from winter resting and part focusing on other writing. And spending time on other projects. Still, my mentor Grief has more for me to share, so I’ll be back.
From my 2019 sojourn landing in Glasgow, Scotland, where I’ll land again in May 2022.
Sojourning With ???
Just an FYI: I will be heading off on another sojourn to Scotland, Wales, England, Ireland, and finishing of in Chartres, France from mid-May to mid-July. I will be coordinating with my directees for Zoom sessions and if you are interested in scheduling a spiritual companionship session, I will still be available while I’m away, though more limited. My last sojourn in 2019 was “Sojourning with Grief” (see blog posts from March-August 2019) as I journeyed with my mother’s ashes, leaving them at various places along the way, and connected with the land. This sojourn has not offered a title yet. Holding it with curiosity. I will be blogging as I journey.
Honoring The Season You Are In
As spring unfolds with its burgeoning energy, please be gentle with yourself. Our personal seasons don’t always align with nature’s. If you are still in winter or autumn or summer or a hybrid of complex wonderful you, then honor that. No matter where you “be,” I hope you can find Beauty in small ways that nourish you.
As always, be kind and gentle to you.
In gratitude,
anne
(Ps, for my friends in the Southern Hemisphere, as Earth draws inward and nights grow longer, may you also treat yourself with tenderness, honoring the season you are in. Finding Beauty in small ways that nourish you.)
For Your Reflection
As we enter yet another shift in the pandemic (perhaps moving toward an “endemic” relationship with Covid) how are you responding? What is stirring in you? Anxiety? Relief? Fear? Anger? Are you numb? Overwhelmed? What happens if you take time to sit with curiosity and look deeper to see what might be stirring those feelings. What is the story?
When was the last time you noticed Beauty? What is "Beauty” to you?
I have offered the poem, The Well of Grief, by David Whyte in my workshops using writing portals: (Portals being doorways into writing.) Take 7-10 minutes and free-write (don’t think, let your pen keep moving) to one of these suggestions:
1) “When I slip below the surface of my loss…”
2) Use a line from the poem that resonates
3) Describe what you wish for.
As you read back what you wrote, what do you notice?
Who are the people, trees, animals, rivers, etc that can listen to your stories of loss gently without offering solutions? Whose stories can you receive and hold gently in the same manner?
If you were to name what “season” your life is in, what season would it be (and don’t feel you need to limit yourself to the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, winter,) you can be creative. What images/words would you use to describe this season? (A repeat question, but feels appropriate as we have literally shifted into spring, or autumn depending on where you live.)
Are you being kind and gentle to YOU? Compassionate? Tender to yourself and others? How does that look as you go about your day?
Opportunities
I will be presenting A Slow Walk With Loss: Anticipatory Grieving in Dementia Care for HOPE, Dementia Support on Tuesday, March 29th, 6:30-8:00 PT via Zoom. This presentation was well received last year so they asked me back! If you are the carer of a loved one, family member, friend with dementia, or want to support someone who is journeying with someone with dementia, please join me. And pass the information along. Here is the link to register.
I will be one of the readers at Coffee and Grief Communities April 7th Coffee Talk! The other four readers are fabulous, so you really want to attend (no pressure-haha.) 7pm PT. Contact me for Zoom information. I’ll also post on my Nurture Your Journey FB page as soon as it is available.
NW Association for Death Education and Bereavement Support (NWADEBS) and Lewis and Clark Graduate School is offering “The Pediatric Path: The End-of-Life Doula Approach for Grief and Bereavement [Online].” This looks like an important and tender topic. Here is the link to register or find out more.
Bits & Pieces/Odds & Ends
This New York Times OpDoc, Yaren and the Sun, is tender (tissue warning!) The pandemic has left many children intimately familiar with Grief through the loss of a parent or other heart-close caregiver. This is not new. The Dougy Center has been supporting grieving children and those who care for them for over 30 years. However, it has increased the number of children coping with death of a loved one. Anyway, I hope you will take the time and watch. And then consider the hearts of children who are going through the myriad of losses in our unsettled world.
I have fallen in love vicariously with octopuses after reading the Soul of an Octopus. A Surprising Exploration into the Wonder of Consciousness, by Sy Montgomery. If you don’t believe other species on this planet have an ability to think, feel, plan, create…this book might persuade you. Beautifully written with, surprise, Grief woven into the story.
Final Thoughts
The revered Zen master, teacher, and poet, Thich Nhat Hanh, died in January. His legacy of peace is a thread we can all weave into our lives and relationships, if we desire. Here is a repeat of a podcast with him and a couple of his students on OnBeing, Remembering Thich Nhat Hanh, Brother Thay.
And finally, I went to my first in-person concert since Covid in early March, The Wailin’ Jennys, with my friend Heather Michet of Purple Crow Sings. It was rescheduled twice from 2020! So worth it. Beautiful harmonies. Here is a link to their song, “By Way of Sorrow,” which always reminds me that we come by our Grief journeys honestly and Joy wants be our companion along the way. Here is a link to the lyrics.
